John's Secret
by macgyvershe
Summary: John has a secret. Sherlock knows John's secret. John will learn Sherlock's secret. Sexy, but no sex. Some snogging and much revealing of many wonderful secrets. Art by Romanse.


**John's Secret**

John's left shoulder hurts. The winter chill and beginnings of arthritis brought on by the wound damage assaults John's senses. He knows the shoulder is going to be a detriment to his overall physicality, a weak spot robbing him of a portion of his strength. Unless he keeps it stretched and active as he ages it will bother him, but inactivity around Sherlock isn't going to happen. John will follow Sherlock through the London that they both love without a moment's hesitation.

Rolling out of bed he begins his routine of stretches to warm the muscles and take the outer edge of pain from his shoulder. Sherlock is aware of John's pain, but not to what degree. He will never find out if John can help it; for John is protector and defender of the realm called Sherlock Holmes and he will not relinquish his title, not to anyone. Sherlock will not go into battle alone and John won't be sideline because of his debility either. So getting up, he moves in a rhythmic dance of muscle and bone to begin his exciting day.

"John?" Sherlock calls from outside John's door open door.

'Ah, the master calls,' thinks John. "Yes, alright, Sherlock, I'm up."

"John we've got a case, ready in 45."

'Oh my god, he's giving me 45 minutes to shave, shower, dress and grab tea! How benevolent this god among men is to me.' John thinks snarkily. He affectionately smiles at the wonderful feelings that Sherlock gives him. The warm, fuzzy and slightly Twilight Zone existence he has with the worlds only consulting defective detective.

John finishes his exercise, sets out fresh clothes and hurries on to the loo to begin his morning routine. He showers and shaves, no time for sexual release this morning. He opens the door to find Sherlock there, a cup of Earl Grey extended towards him.

"Tea, no sugar, a touch of cream." Sherlock smiles his quirky half smile and turns back to the living room. He is fully clothed and appears ready to bolt out the door.

John takes a sip of his tea and goes to dress. When he gets to his room he finds his clothing choices have been augmented. His normal wool jumper has been replaced by a deep indigo cashmere one. Jeezeus! It probably costs more than his most expensive piece of clothing. He dresses with the new unbelievably soft jumper clinging attractively to him.

"Ah, the Soldier/Doctor emerges at last." Sherlock has his coat on and is twining his scarf round his swanish neck. He then holds up John's coat to help him slide into it as he always does. "Here we go." Sherlock gives John a gentle push toward the door as they descend the stairs to a waiting taxi.

(-_-)

One hour later they arrived back at 221B Baker Street.

"Well, we could have called that one in, Sherlock," John says as he divests himself of his coat and plops into his favorite chair.

Sherlock is de-coated and de-scarfing, hanging everything on its appropriate peg. "Yes, barely a five, I'm not sure why Dimmock even bothered to text us."

Moving around in the kitchen, Sherlock places something in the microwave and turns on the timer.

"I applaud you new taste in jumpers John. Indigo enhances the color of your eyes exceptionally well and the fitted look is more appealing."

"Beautiful jumper, Sherlock, but I don't recall one of your assignments as being my dresser?" John forgot about Sherlock's clothing change in the heat of the possible early morning case.

"John those oatmeal colored jumpers your sister saddles you with are hardly flattering. They hide your manly physique, your inherent good looks."

John isn't sure how to take that bit of information and merely clears his throat. He pulls up the local newspaper and begins to rummage through the pages.

Sherlock comes over and stands behind John. He takes the paper from John's hands and puts it on his lap then proceeds to lift his arms and remove said jumper in one easy motion.

"Oi, just what the hell is going on here, Sherlock, I'm reading the sodding paper." John looks up into the face of his looming consulting best friend.

Sherlock plops a hot, moist pad on John's left shoulder, using the Velcro strap on it he fastens it to John. The warming pad will stay put on the awkward shoulder joint. John sighs unabashedly as the welcomed warmth radiates across the massive scar tissue as it further alleviates the achy pain residing there constantly. John sighs.

"You know." It's not a question, but statement of fact. John is bereft of the fact his secret isn't.

"John, you know who I am and what I do, it's a flagrant misconception that I wouldn't be aware of everything concerning you."

Sherlock now pushes John onto the floor and assumes his position on the chair. Deftly he removes the warming pad from John's shoulder and lifts the cotton shirt off his now willing participant. Lifting a small bottle of warmed oil he brought in with the warming pad he begins to massage the scar tissue branding John's shoulder with the mark of a far away war.

"And just where did you learn to give a decent massage," John asks?

"YouTube, John." Sherlock looks bemused, but John can't see his expression as his eyes are closed in blissful pleasure as he feels those dexterous long fingers of Sherlock Holmes give him a rub that is literally sublime. The strong hands are gentle and loving in their touch. With just the right amount of pressure to increase blood flow and make John feel totally relaxed.

"You have deduced me completely, haven't you? Is there anything you don't know about me? " John regrets not asking before.

"Hum, there are a myriad of items on an extremely long list John; I'm not sure where you'd like me to begin. How does your face look as you orgasm? What is your normal refractory time and can I alter it with various physical and mental stimulations? How is…"

"Is this the top or the bottom of your list and why does it appear to be totally sexual in nature, Sherlock?" John is suddenly quite intensely interested in Sherlock's long list.

"Why at the top of my list, of course, John you would never be at the bottom. I've not even scratched the surface of this extensive list. Sexual? Why there is always that tension between us isn't there; words unspoken, feelings we do not express." Sherlock gives John his crooked smile.

"At the beginning you said you were flattered by my interest, but you were married to your work. Or has your infallible memory failed you?" John remembers the evening in question.

"I was hasty in my first assessment of our relationship John. I thought I was gaining a partner who was a perfect fit for my life style. I didn't realize I had acquired the personal passion of my life." John turns round at that last comment and is greeted with an affectionate kiss on his cheek.

John is flummoxed. "Sherlock is this one of your experiments, your manipulations to curry favor for some god-awful use of my mind and/or body?"

Sherlock gave his 'totally hurt' look. "I was wrong John, wrong to think that our relationship wouldn't evolve." Sherlock says sincerely. "I don't want you in my life; I _need_ you, right by my side where ever I am."

John turns around more fully, still encompassed in between Sherlock's long legs. Sherlock captures his face and kisses him with more than affection on his sensual lips.

"You've wanted this for a long time, John. I've wanted it too but was afraid once I crossed our friendship line, I could never go back and losing you, any part of you is not acceptable to me."

John leaned against the sofa, looking into Sherlock's eyes. There was no shamming there, no deconstructing the truth for ulterior purposes.

"You told the 'Woman' sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side," John said, bringing those words into play which had stolen his hope of ever knowing Sherlock's love.

"Then I choose to be on the losing side; as long as I can keep you safe in my heart." Sherlock ran the fingers of his right hand through John's short soft hair.

"Your heart?" John asked, knowing Sherlock is reasonably sure he doesn't have one.

"You are the architect of my heart, John, the builder, the stone mason. My heart is a product of your strength, courage and love." He said with his quirky half smile, bringing John's hand to his heart.

John could think of no other retorts to Sherlock's acknowledgement that he had finally decided to declare his love. He is shell shocked by the words.

Sherlock stood and lifted John off the floor and guided him over to the couch, retrieving the cashmere jumper on the way. Sitting down he took John into his embrace and covered his torso with the soft jumper.

"You are being quiet, John. I'd hoped you would be pleased by what I've said?"

"I am Sherlock. I've wanted this since that first night. I'm having a hard time believing it now." John was genuinely wrong footed by his present experience.

"I think I can remedy your disbelief." Sherlock used the strength of his long arms to capture John. His kisses were not aggressive but pure in their desire and lethal in their technique.

John was transformed from passive participant to dominate seducer, his kisses fierce and fabulous in return. As they came up for air Sherlock had his once-again-you've-amazed-me look on his face.

"John, Mycroft was right. I don't have extensive experience with sex. I've never found anyone I'd care to go past kissing or performing fellatio, no one has ever aroused me as you do."

"It's okay Sherlock," John was running his small, strong hands over Sherlock's body. He can feel the consulting lover's hardness at his light touch. "Trust me. I'll teach you, love."

John smiled. His goodness and warmth always made Sherlock feel like he is safe, no matter where they were. John is the comfort and the companionship that Sherlock never knew he needed so desperately. John stood clasping Sherlock's arm as he led him to their bed.

"Put clean sheets on the bed, Sherlock and get plenty of towels." John gathered the items he'd need from his room, if this was Sherlock's first time it is not going to be slap dash, it is going to be memorable. Sherlock follows John's directive. He places a single aromatic candle with a cinnamon scent on the table next to the bed; the candle gives the room a warm glow and enticing scent.

"Now," John turns to Sherlock. The consulting lover stands and John begins to undress Sherlock savoring every damned second. With the divested clothing neatly piled upon the ground, John leads Sherlock to the bed and situates him on its surface. John stares for a moment looking at the long, lean lines of this cheetah of a man; long limbed and fast even at rest; his eyes move over the pale skin against the blue-grey sheets. He undresses himself for his soon-to-be-lover. Sherlock will want to view his many stages of nudity too, there will be the massive cataloging and mental dictation of everything happening tonight, but this is being done in the background so as not to interfere with their first night.

John enters the bed and takes Sherlock into his arms and finds to his surprise the quick-silver acid tongued, dominate, driven, and dastardly persona is not evident. A gentle, sedate and loving man who looks to John as teacher and lover resides in his place. John can hardly believe it; has only ever glimpsed this man in flickers and nuances, never as completely available as he is now.

Sherlock is vulnerable, child-like in his trust and belief in John. Gone is the need for instant gratification pulsing through the man at any given second of his life. Sherlock waits, hesitant, curiosity heightened, everything else muted and distant from his mind. His tenderness is a new experience for John. Having felt it briefly, it is amazing to fully feel Sherlock this way.

John doesn't want to blink, can't lose sight of this Sherlock for even an instant. He begins his kisses taking Sherlock's talented mouth. Sherlock has a talented tongue, but John is going to open up his world, take him to other places and teach him the entire range of physical and emotional sensuality that exists.

Sherlock's full lips are soft and compliant. Those blue/grey/green eyes heavily lashed and exquisite in their chameleon nature make John shiver in anticipation of being captured by in their loving gaze and drowning in their liquid joy. If this is Sherlock in bed, John will celebrate his discovery. No other man will ever touch HIS Sherlock.

John struggles to keep himself slow and contained in his sexual actions. His own alpha male tendencies want to mark and make his lover ready for everything at once ‒ to possess him in every possible way, to make him aware of what it is to be cherished and loved not for his mind or his abilities, but because he is Sherlock ‒ John's Sherlock.

Sherlock's intelligent eyes flash at John; he reads John so easily, so readily. He sees John's hunger, his sexual desire smoldering beneath his clam exterior, a human volcano waiting to erupt.

"Take me there John. You've wanted to for a long time; there is a fire burning inside you. Take me, make me yours. Show me the side of you I've been aware of, a man who's set my heart on fire. Burn me to the ground and let me burn each time you touch me until the embers of our love fill my world; till I burn white hot for you, John."

John smiles, Sherlock smiles back; Sherlock has loosed the dragon from his den ‒ let the lion walk out of the tall grass and into his heart. John has become the lover that Sherlock has needed and wanted; caring, compassionate, wild and unpredictable, consuming and tenacious in all his glory; his soldier/doctor/lover/friend/companion, his everything; his home and his world all in this one man. The John Watson that no one knows; this dangerous man, the one that Sherlock desires; this dangerous, deliriously delightfully complex man that gives him such pleasure in everyday life is now giving him the thrills of an experienced lover. A lover of extraordinary talent, patience and incredible practiced attention, John is unequalled in his abilities to seduce and to bring Sherlock to a quivering state of mindless orgasmic pleasure. To lose himself in pleasure, to turn off Sherlock's mind, stop the constant stress of a mind forever in motion, this is a gift that no one else can give to Sherlock.

_Note to self. There will never be another lover in my life after John Watson. _Sherlock writes this large on the outer and inner walls of his Mind Palace.

John relinquishes his love to Sherlock, surrenders himself completely to this mad man he admires and loves from the moment they first met.

This is the secret John will carry to his grave, Sherlock's secret. The man without hope of being the world's most loveable human being; is in fact the world's most loveable human being, _but only for John Watson._


End file.
